That Crocker Boy
by Katta
Summary: From hematitebadger's prompt: "It doesn't bother Garland Wuornos that his teenage son has a crush on another boy. It does bother him that that boy is Duke Crocker." Companion piece to "The Muse of Gym Bleachers and Bathroom Stalls."


Even as five-year-olds, those damned kids had gravitated towards each other. The sweetness of Isabella's whispered, "Oh, look, Garland, he's made a friend!" turned a lot less sweet when he realized that the friend in question was the son of Simon Crocker, and presumed next possessor of the Crocker legacy.

He tried to warn Nathan off, but that boy was stubborn as a mule, and you couldn't pry those two apart – though there were times when they broke off on their own accord, not talking to each other for weeks, even months.

Duke was a pretty shitty friend, and not just for the Crocker thing. There seemed to be more in him of present-time Simon than the Simon that had once been. He'd get up to pranks that were... well, half of them probably were just thoughtless attempts at fun, but the other half were downright mean-spirited.

The first couple of times, Garland tried to confront Simon about it: "Do you see what your son did to mine?" "Keep your goddamned kid in check!" but talking to that asshole was the very definition of futility.

Duke himself was rarely around for the scolding, and when he was, he took it with a smirk that suggested he'd heard enough of that kind to stop caring anymore. And Simon sure as hell never did anything to stop it, unless you counted a half-veiled threat to "stop both their Troubles."

So after a while, Garland stuck to, "Suck it up, son," and "Stay away from the Crockers."

For a while, it seemed like Nathan had actually listened. There was no mention or sight of the Crocker kid anywhere around him for years, and he started hanging out with actual nice people.

Until Junior year of high school.

In retrospect, Garland should have seen it sooner. Nathan had been moody for a while, even getting in trouble in school, which was entirely unlike him, but the first time Garland had any reason to connect it to the Crockers was that party.

Nathan coming home in the middle of the night, stinking drunk and dishevelled, and refusing to say the first thing about what he'd been up to. When Garland confronted the other kids about it, the statements were unanimous: "Duke took him home." "Duke made sure..." Duke. Always Duke, and probably Duke giving them the booze as well, though none of them said that out loud. There were enough of Simon Crocker's old drinking buddies still hanging around for the kid to know exactly where to get hold of whatever he wanted.

Garland pressured Hannah Driscoll a little – she was a good kid, despite her upbringing – but she claimed to have stolen her bottle at home. As much as Garland was darkly amused that the Rev had fallen off the wagon, it didn't do him any good in his current mission: a reason to warn Nathan off Duke Crocker.

And all through this, even as he fumed at his son's chosen company and refusal to talk to him about it, he never once suspected... never _saw_... for fuck's sake, Nathan had had lovebites all over his throat that night, Garland had even confronted him about it, but he'd never put the pieces together.

Not until Duke ran away from home and one of the kids called in for questioning broke apart and confessed a seedy love affair that had apparently ended when Duke dumped him for another guy.

For a few minutes, Garland remained blissfully unaware, registering only with a spike of surprise that a guy like Duke would play for both teams – and then it struck him.

Those lovebites.

Nathan's laughing insistence that he hadn't been with a girl.

Nathan and _Duke_?

No, surely not – but it would fit, wouldn't it? The way those two had practically imprinted on each other as kids, that push and pull that never seemed to settle into indifference... God, Garland should have broken that off once and for all when he had the chance, given Duke a good hiding while he was at it.

Of course, he couldn't be sure, and there wasn't any way he could ask Nathan. "So, son, you wouldn't happen to be gay, would you?" That was a hell of a subject to bring up, even with more evidence than was currently in his possession, and you had to be damned sure not to mention it without a backup of reassurances about how it was okay.

Which it _wasn't_, not where Duke Crocker was concerned. Anyone else, sure, but not Duke, and how was Garland supposed to say "I love you no matter what" and "stay away from the Crockers" at the same time and make sure that both messages were received?

He tried to push the thought away from his mind, sternly telling himself that of _course_ Nathan knew better than to mess around with a Crocker, that fucking kid had pushed _tacks_ in his back for crying out loud, but the unease remained.

Garland investigated like he would any teenage runaway, but he couldn't deny a certain relief that Duke was gone. At least that was one problem well out of Nathan's life – and sure, he was still hanging out with Reverend Driscoll's daughter, but at least rampant bigotry wasn't hereditary.

Maybe that relief was what Nathan picked up on, once he learned the truth of Duke's departure and stood in the station yelling at his father: "He could be hurt! He could be _dead_!"

So many times, Garland had been annoyed that he couldn't tell what his reclusive son was thinking, but it was no mistaking the emotions this time, and he had to bite his tongue not to say anything like 'good riddance.'

Nathan seemed to hear the unspoken words anyway, because he accused: "You just don't care," and stormed off.

Garland wished that was true. What he would have given not to care about any of this. Mere indifference would have been a blessing in comparison to the sickening mix of rage, revulsion and fear at the thought of Nathan with the son of that butcher.

Isabella would know what to do, he thought morosely, and then amended that idea, because Isabella had never taken the threat of the Crockers as seriously as she should have done.

There was a twisted sort of humor in that, Simon Crocker's son fooling around with a Troubled kid – but it was easy enough to keep from laughing when it was _his_ Troubled kid, his son in everything but blood.

The old woman Crocker's house stood empty, after she'd been taken to the hospital. Searching it was... okay, yeah, it was a breach of ethics, but he got no rest until he'd tried. To no avail; Duke had taken whatever possessions he owned along with him, and he didn't seem like someone who would have sentimental keepsakes anyway.

But there was no denying that Nathan was exactly that someone.

This was more than a breach of ethics, Garland knew with a sinking sensation in his stomach as he searched Nathan's room, doing as tidy a job of it as he'd ever done on a case. This was just plain bad parenting, and if Nathan would never find out, it was no excuse. Still he rummaged through drawers, looked behind the pictures on the walls, and was rewarded with some creased pieces of paper under the mattress.

There was no name on them, but there didn't have to be. "Dirty rhymes" they'd been called in Duke's school file, with the usual kind of official language understatement. Garland read through all the papers and managed to avoid crumpling them in his hand, though he got a strong urge to find that little smart-ass and give him a good slap in the face.

Love letters it wasn't, but it was all the confirmation he needed, and part of him wanted to confront Nathan and ask, "What the _fuck_ did you think you were doing?"

Nothing good could come of that, though. He folded the papers back the way he'd found them and stuck them under the mattress again. Not that this solved the problem, either. Duke might be gone, but if Nathan was stupid enough to fall for that brat, to ignore the huge warning sign that was the Crockers' very _existence_ and to keep this kind of disrespectful dirty talk as if it were romance and roses, there was just no trusting the kid. No fucking judgement whatsoever.

Garland realized that he'd never be able to let on that he knew. Maybe if, some day, Nathan saw fit to out himself, or if he started seeing some boy who wasn't the ne'er-do-well child of a psychopathic asshole, Garland could say the right things and be the dad you were supposed to be in such situations.

Knowing Nathan and his stubborn, stupid attitude, that was a pretty big maybe.


End file.
